


Cruise | Epiphany

by beyondcanon



Series: Cruise [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondcanon/pseuds/beyondcanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cruise is coming to an end, and Brittany is not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruise | Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my [prompt challenge](http://beyondcanon.tumblr.com/tagged/ma%27s-prompt-challenge) on Tumblr. Some stories will be posted on AO3; this is one of them.
> 
> By the structure of the challenge, each part of the Cruise series is a standalone, complete installment. We are almost coming to an end with this verse.

So those are like the worst days ever.

Brittany has to work, because she’s a damn  _employee_  who’s not supposed to get along with the guests, and by get along she means have lots of sex and then some weird feelings and not being able to complain about guests after they run out on her.

And by guests, she means Santana Lopez.

—

Brittany breaks the pencil in her hands like the Hulk.

Santana’s kissing  _Marley_  the pool girl, who’s not even bisexual for God’s sake, she likes men and dick and thick hipster beards. But Santana’s pressing her against the wall, holding her wrists above her head, and Marley’s little whines are more than enough for Brittany, who leaves stomping her feet.

It’s been fucking two days Santana won’t look at her, two days and Santana’s already too happy to take someone else to  _their_  secret place and forever stain the memory of Santana coming around Brittany’s fingers like a river.

Shit.

—

She flaunts, that woman, she  _flaunts_  her good looks right at Brittany’s face, perfect firm round ass in the air as she tans, perfect breasts bouncing when she’s dancing, rubbing herself on other woman and not even looking in Brittany’s direction, goddamit.

She’s not even sorry she breaks two glasses, and when she’s at her quarters she throws everything around because she’s horny and frustrated and angry and it’s not even  _fair._

_—_

She can totally do this.

She can have any woman she wants, because have you looked at her? She knows she’s too sexy for her shirt.

But the bartender, Sugar, doesn’t have Santana’s willingness, the way her back arches in desperation and she breathes out Brittany’s name in ecstasy, sweat dripping between her breasts, and Kitty, she’s wild and naughty but she’s not  _it_ , she doesn’t look at Brittany like Santana, she doesn’t feel as delicious coming on Brittany’s mouth.

Brittany leaves Kitty’s quarters flustered and orgasm-free.

Santana ruins  _everything_.

—

Okay, maybe it was cool to exchange little glances with Santana during the day, coach her on a game or two, and know she’s dancing just for Brittany’s eyes, to get her all worked up for later, little smirks and sexy moves.

Now there’s a whole lot of  _nothing_ , of guests who don’t care about who she is and stupid jokes and games among the staff that are not even funny anymore, and Santana keeps ignoring her, leaving the room when she enters, kissing women in the pool and during parties and she doesn’t even ask Brittany for drinks anymore, she always goes to the next bartender.

“Stop pouting,” Tina interrupts her line of thought.

“I’m so  _not_  pouting.”

“Brittany Susan Pierce, we are supposed to watch Grease, not mope around about guests.”

She crosses her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know what you’re talking about, you know what I’m talking about, and we’re  _not_  going to talk about it. Understood?”

“Not really.”

—

Marley has the courage to talk to  _her_  after getting reported?

“You know, I had never thought about girls before.” and okay, maybe she’s not talking  _to_ Brittany, but their little group instead as they gossip on their night off. “But that Santana is just,  _wow_.” She looks around with those dumb big eyes, nodding appreciatively like she has any  _right_  to Santana.

Tina holds Brittany’s hand and grounds her in reality, where she can’t just lunge forward and kick some goody two shoes ass.

Someone agrees, mumbling how hot Santana is.

“She’s the  _best_  kisser.” Marley sighs. “I don’t even know how she does it. Totally worth being reported.”

That totally makes Tina the best friend since the beginning of Earth, hands down. Brittany shall be forever loyal. Real friends report people.

They keep on talking, and Marley happily confirms that yes, those amazing tits are real; she made sure to fondle them. Very sensitive nipples, too.

Brittany bites her tongue and decides to hit the gym.

—

She hits the punching bag until her arms are sore.

Three days before and Santana would be so willing, so obedient, opening those sexy legs for Brittany, coming only on Brittany’s mouth, clenching around Brittany’s fingers, whining in Brittany’s mouth, scratching Brittany’s back, no one else’s.

Now Santana is kissing everyone but Brittany, and she’s kissing the  _staff –_  kissing the staff is a low blow, c’mon.

Santana’s going to leave that boat and she won’t even remember who Brittany is. She’ll taste someone else, kiss someone else, exchange numbers with someone else. Not Brittany.

She winces with a bad punch and groans in pain, dropping to the floor sweaty and unhappy.

—

She stops Santana in a hallway at 3am. “I can’t take this anymore.” She holds Santana’s forearm, makes Santana turn to her. “Please.”

Santana looks at her for the first time in five days, and the corners of her eyes are soft soft and fill Brittany with hope, but then her mouth is forming a thin line and she’s yanking her arm away.

“You made your choice.” She says flatly. “I made mine.”

She walks away, hips swaying smooth, heels clicking on the floor.

Brittany watches.

—

C’monnn. She made no actual choice. How can she make a choice she doesn’t even know she’s making? How’s she supposed to know what Santana’s thinking?

—

It’s the last night.

It’s the last party.

Brittany leaves at 4am, dried sweat stuck to her body, foot aching and ears ringing. She’s done everything she’s supposed to do. She’s performed her last duty. There is no more entertainment to be held in this cruise.

She goes straight to Santana’s room.

She stops at the front door. She knocks.

Santana opens, half naked and makeup off. “Quinn, I said I wanted to be fucking alone—“

Brittany shuffles her feet. “Hi.”

Santana blinks, three times, then frowns. “Brittany.”

“Yes.”

“You’re at my front door.”

“Yes.”

“Being filmed by a camera.”

Brittany sighs in defeat. “Yes.”

Santana rolls her eyes. “Come in before security notices you,” she pulls Brittany in by her blouse.

—

“Sit,” Santana says.

Brittany sits on the chair.

Santana looks at herself at the full body mirror and ties her hair up. “Why are you here?”

Brittany tries really hard not to stare at Santana’s abs and imagine herself licking them.

She clears her throat. “I didn’t want Marley to be the last person you kissed in this trip. I miss you.”

Santana looks at her, her expression changing so quick Brittany barely catches it.

“I’m a little drunk.”

“There we have it.” Santana says, walking in Brittany’s direction.

She plops down on Brittany’s lap, straddling Brittany’s hip, and pulls Brittany’s hair back. “Let’s see,” she says before she kisses Brittany hungrily, demanding access, arching against Brittany and  _thank God_ , they’re moaning in each other’s mouths and Brittany’s hands are on Santana’s ass, grabbing and squeezing.

Santana breaks the kiss, chest rising and falling fast. “Tequila?”

Brittany nods. Santana licks her lower lip. Brittany gasps.

“We’ll do it my way.”

Brittany nods, too fast and too eager.

—

Britany is tied to a chair.

“You’re not in condition to make demands, Brittany.”

Brittany is blindfolded.

“Tell me to stop and I will. If you  _don’t_  want me to stop, you won’t say a word. Got it?”

Brittany nods.

“Good. I’m going to fuck myself now. You only get to hear.”

Brittany is  _dripping_.

Santana moans low, back against Brittany’s front as she sinks on the strap on. Her breath hitches when she hits the base, thighs warm against Brittany’s.

“It’s so thick,” she hums, thighs tensing as she takes herself up and down. “So good.” Her voice is low and raspy, head on Brittany’s shoulder and Brittany  _knows_  she’s playing with her own nipples, twisting and pulling and palming her breasts, getting herself all worked up.

Brittany licks her own lips, mouth hanging open. God, if only she could touch. She doesn’t even need to take the blindfold to fuck Santana into oblivion.

After a few minutes, Santana turns around, grabbing Brittany’s shoulders and moaning right in her ear, lips grazing Brittany’s earlobe.

Jesus, even the way she  _breathes_  is sexy.

She kisses Brittany hard and wet, hips rolling deliciously, skin against Brittany’s, biting Brittany’s lower lip and pulling. Brittany leans forward, joining their lips again to explore Santana’s mouth, tongue swirling against Santana’s gloriously.

Santana’s nails sink, painful and deep, but Brittany can feel her lips rolling faster, their foreheads touching and their breaths mingling, until Santana is pulling her hair and whimpering, body stiffening as she comes.

Brittany struggles against her restraints, wanting to hold Santana close and maybe hold her up and take her against a wall, but Santana only laughs in her ear.

“You can’t always get what you want, Britt.” Santana whispers in her ear as she unties Brittany free, breath catching when the dildo slips out of her.

Brittany blinks, eyes adjusting to the light of the room. Santana walks to the bed.

“Lay down.”

Brittany obeys. Santana straddles her face. “Make me come.”

Now  _that’s_  what she’s talking about.

—

“Again,” she moans, taking Santana in her mouth again. God, she loves eating Santana out.

“Fuck,” Santana lets out a breathy moan, grabbing Brittany’s hair with one hand to keep her in place. “Just like that.”

Santana’s cunt is so slick and wet and  _perfect_ , even more right after an orgasm or two, dripping on Brittany’s chin.

Brittany runs her tongue flat in long licks, enjoying the texture and the taste leisurely before she starts fucking Santana with her tongue.

Santana moans, hips jerking as she rubs her cunt on Brittany’s face, head thrown back and eyes closed in pure bliss.

Brittany smiles against Santana, hands grabbing Santana’s hips to hold her in place as her mouth goes upwards and her lips close around Santana’s clit.

“Fuck—Britt,” Santana gasps, holding on the headboard. “I’m still sensiti—“

Brittany sucks hard, tongue lapping at Santana’s clit relentlessly, over and over again until Santana’s thighs are tensing and she lets out a long cry as she comes for the second time all over Brittany’s face.

She falls to the side with a soft thud, and Brittany sighs in satisfaction, licking her own lips.

Santana sits up and stretches, smiling at the sensation before turning to Brittany. “You can leave now.”

Brittany frowns. “What?”

“Leave,” Santana repeats, voice colder. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” She grabs her robe and dresses herself on the way to the bathroom. “You can see yourself out.”


End file.
